


Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out

by sabriel75



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Community: glomp_fest, Drugs, M/M, Medical Procedures, One Night Stands, Romantic Comedy, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sex! Drugs! Rock ‘n’ Roll! Okay… so no rock ‘n’ roll, however, Arthur gets caught in an orgy, acts like a prima donna, and learns being the better man is sexier than he ever realized. Oh and possibly believes in love at first lick. Merlin agrees with him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charma_10](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=charma_10).



> **Author's Notes [a]:** _Ask and you will receive:_ modern AU, mega UST with resolution, happy endings, banter, bit of angst/drama/misunderstanding, arthur looking after merlin, smartass!Will, smartass!Gwaine, smartass!Gwen, dentist!Merlin, lawyer!Arthur  
>  **Author's Notes [b]:** All quotes from Richard Siken's poem from which this fic gets its title.  
>  **Author's Notes [c]:** So much love for planejane and prplhez8 who put up with a wild, crazed beta schedule and my back stories that are always more than I want to write.  
>  **Disclaimer:** The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.

**“Every morning the same big  
and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out  
 _You will be alone always and then you will die_.”**

The thing is, Arthur cannot quite remember how he came to be passed out in the middle of the day, only that the circumstances leading up to it had been unpleasant, exceedingly unpleasant. So when his subconscious snaps out of it, he’s caught off guard by his dream. _It’s good… it’s really good_ and probably going to be nothing short of obscene. Because if Arthur gets his way and he usually does in situations like these; he is about to get off with three lovely lads.

And it’s not very often Arthur’s dreams are this detailed. He can make out every attractive feature of the three men hovering over him, and they’re all decidedly shaggable. The prettiest of the lot is petting his head soothingly while scolding the other two about something. Arthur catches unintelligible snippets but he isn’t really interested in talking; he’d much rather shut those plush lips up with his own.

Except he cannot manage to sit up and settles for grabbing pretty boy’s long-limbered fingers and bringing them to his lips, his tongue licking wet circles into the surprisingly wide palm. Given how delicate the wrist that Arthur is now sucking bruisingly, he’s delighted by how large and masculine the hands actually are. He wants to try swallowing down the man’s middle finger, nipping at the knuckle, tonguing the tip, taking it in and out and fully soaking the entire length of it; because Christ, it’s long and he can tell… the man will buckle under him and give himself over easily; and Arthur really likes the needy whimpers this pretty boy makes.

Vaguely, it registers with Arthur that he’s ignoring the other two men when their tugging and pulling hands get a little rough. He almost says there’s plenty of himself to spare, only not even in his own dreams should something that horribly cheesy be said aloud. They’re pushy and fussy and one is way too noisy, and suddenly Arthur’s very aware of how he has a hell of a hangover even in this REM sleep-induced haze.

“Stop talking,” Arthur says, accompanying his command with one of his _I’m in charge_ glares.

It’s his dream so he figures he can be as rude as he likes.

Or not.

The third guy is definitely not on board with being bossed around. With a hissed, “you self-entitled little prick,” he viciously puts all his weight into pinning Arthur to the dental chair and he’s heavy and not doing anything at all for Arthur’s libido. Which makes Arthur think now is a good time to wake up.

Everything’s gone pear-shaped. And he tries and tries and tells himself to wake up over and over again, but he still hears swishy-haired man’s laughter and prick boy’s complaining and the enticing quiet tones of pretty boy all in his head, even with his eyes squeezed tightly shut and blackness threatening to swallow him whole. They’re not going away and Arthur feels the panic bubbling up and some of the fog lifts… and _oh bloody hell!_

“Mr. Pendragon, can you tell me where you are?”

 

 **“So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog  
of non-definitive acts,  
something other than the desperation.”**

Murder does not solve anything, but Arthur contemplates it. He knows the law; he knows the system. He could get away with it. The more mulling he does, the more viable of a solution it seems – because he is surrounded by idiots, and they’re lucky no one has already offed them before now and he cannot imagine anyone missing them if he goes ahead with it.

First to go will be his PA, Leon, who doped Arthur with Valium and forgot to mention it. So what if Leon had warned him of the side effects and potential hazards of taking more than one of the pills he handed Arthur. If he had been thinking smartly, he’d have given Arthur only one pill and that would have been that. And Leon should’ve known. Arthur rarely ever listens to him talk about anything other than a case.

Not able to handle it? What is there to handle? Arthur isn’t that difficult and he most certainly was not that anxious about getting a filling. Leon really did not have to have the dentist call in a prescription for Valium.

And speaking of dentists, Arthur is still waiting on his to appear.

He is tiring of the three stooges in the room with him and he cannot help but question his taste in men watching them. They all still look a bit gobsmacked and Arthur’s already explained in great detail what exactly happened. Surely, without the Valium, he would not have picked such useless gits for his orgy fantasies.

Swishy-haired introduces himself as Gwaine and keeps making sly remarks about how today’s events are going in his porn. Arthur mentions slander and lawsuit under his breath as he tries to right himself and stand, but Gwaine only chuckles, says, “Good one, laddie,” and pushes him back flat on the chair.

“Still delusional,” Gwaine calls to prick boy, who is Will, but Arthur refuses to think of as anything other than prick boy. It suits him, especially since he will not shut up about earlier, which is quickly shooting to the top of Arthur’s most embarrassing life moment’s list.

Pretty boy keeps flitting about, offering him water, telling him to lie still and not offering his name; and Arthur wants none of that. He would rather leave, but they won’t let him, claiming he isn’t stable enough to walk out or be on his own.

“Unlike you peons, I have a driver who will deliver me straight to my front door. I think I can manage from there, yeah?”

Pretty boy shakes his head and the other two agree with him. “It isn’t safe yet.”

“Isn’t that for the dentist to decide? You know, the one with the actual medical degree.”

“Yeah it is,” prick boy says, grinning maniacally and nodding towards pretty boy.

“Hi.” Pretty Boy offers his hand and continues, “Dr. Emrys. Merlin if you like.”

 

 **“You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?”**

The ground ripples under Arthur’s feet. He’s sure of it when he stands hurriedly, quietly, putting all his energies into a stealth escape. Prick boy’s voice dominates the group huddle and gets progressively louder and harsher and the other two swat him in turns for what comes out of his mouth, but thankfully they ignore Arthur.

Everything prick boy says is right though. He enumerates every complaint HR brings to Uther when Arthur loses it. And usually Arthur finds he couldn’t care less about explaining the why of his actions, but he has had to sit through a great many sensitivity seminars and communication groups lately that they must finally be getting to him, because he’s feeling a whole lot of guilty about today and it’s not even all his fault.

So he has been a dick this entire time, but that was under the influence of drugs he had no idea he was taking. And yes, they are not responsible for him in an overdosed state or for getting him home safely or for his fucking uncooperative head that’s spinning, but it’s their fault he isn’t at home. He wants to leave just as bad as prick boy wants him gone.

A buzzing begins in Arthur’s ears and he tries valiantly to push on. Only one more step and he’ll be in reach of the doorknob and he can make a run for the exit and the comforts of his own flat. He deserves prick boy’s tirade, but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be allowed to leave, because who wouldn’t be overcome with tiredness and a desperate need to go home after the day Arthur’s had? Just when he thinks he can make an argument for this case, the room starts tilting backwards and he’s falling.

“Merlin.” He calls out so softly he’s certain none of them hears, but Merlin does.

He catches Arthur with steady arms. The only evidence of his mad dash to Arthur is his uneven breathing that reverberates through Arthur since he’s pinned up against Merlin’s chest and he finds he doesn’t even mind the tight embrace when Merlin’s shaken, breathy whispers of “it’s okay. You’re alright now,” reach him despite his frustrated rage.

However, they don’t stop the embarrassment that burns through Arthur starting at his scalp and engulfing his whole body down to his big toes when Merlin has to walk him back to the chair. He gulps down water in hopes of stopping the various inflammatory remarks making their way to the tip of his tongue or from letting any more of them accidentally spill out onto this man who has patiently bore every rudeness of Arthur’s today and did not deserve it. He goes to apologize, but prick boy starts talking before he can.

“You shouldn’t let him be so familiar with you! He’s a posh git and a lawyer. Right now, he’s thinking of ways to ruin us.

“Aren’t you?” Will asks angrily, rounding on Arthur, who’s slouching maybe for the first time in his life, but the dental chair isn’t meant for promoting good posture and the feeling like a kid being scolded in the sweet shop isn’t helping either.

“It was my prescription… I mean I wrote it,” Merlin interrupts, staring Will down and adjusting the chair so that Arthur is sitting up and able to look them all in the face. “Your PA requested it and I called it in. That’s what you hire a PA for, yeah? You wouldn’t want to be caught doing things us peons do?”

It’s that bit of sarcastic spark that makes Arthur take another look at Merlin, a look that has him seeing past his overwhelming prettiness and seeing intelligence, playfulness and attraction. Arthur’s eyebrows lift haughtily and Merlin simply grins. A playful glint in his eye, knowing Arthur has cottoned on to his interest. Arthur takes the bait, noticing how Merlin verified he did nothing wrong and shifted all the blame back onto Leon in one smooth move and without the juvenile ‘he did it’ manner most people would have used. As a lawyer, Arthur finds he can respect that and wants to challenge it at the same time.

Also, he finds it _incredibly hot._

“Since you wrote the prescription, aren’t you supposed to verify, before I take the medicine, if I’d react badly to the drug you’re prescribing?” Arthur sneers, for effect and to tick off prick boy.

Merlin only laughs, “I did. Leon said he asked you and you hadn’t in the past. This isn’t the first time you’ve needed Valium before coming to the dentist. And who pops pills without knowing what they are first?”

Arthur hates to lose a case and here and now, he thinks frustratingly, he is being bested by a dentist and that it cannot get any worse until he feels undeniably giddy over the adorably smug look on pretty boy's face.

“There has to be some way of showing neglect,” Arthur mutters, determined, as if he were facing a judge and not some man he'd pull if out at the pub.

“For what?” Merlin asks saucily. “Neglecting to know you’d swoon like a Mills & Boon heroine at the sound of the drill?”

Laughter peels out of Merlin and Gwaine, but prick boy sputters, “See… I told you. He blames us. You should sue his ass for sexual assault, Merlin.”

“It won’t hold up in court. Firstly, there was no penetration of any kind,” and Arthur stops, realizing what he’s just said and how lawyerly he sounds and that that’s not going to endear him to anyone standing around.

Gwaine pats him on the shoulder and gives him a wink, “Merlin should thank you; it’s the most action he’s seen in months.”

Finally, someone else other than Arthur is being made the fool, and the tips of Merlin’s ears shade redder than the Queen’s robes of state as proof.

Although Arthur doesn’t feel so victorious when Merlin visibly deflates seeing prick boy gearing up for another tirade.

“Enough,” he says tiredly, scrubbing his hands vigorously over his face. “Go home, Will. You too, Gwaine. I’ll finish up some paperwork while Arthur and I wait out the Valium’s worse effects.”

“I’m not leaving you here with him.”

“Yes you are Will.” Merlin opens the door, standing tall and authoritative and watches Will shuffle out. “Go on,” he tells Will and Gwaine when they hesitate in the hall. Gwaine sidles up to him with a, “You sure?” and Merlin nods, replying, “I’ll be fine. Go on now.”

“You’re both to clock out and go home.”

A relieved sigh escapes Arthur about the same time it does Merlin when they go and the door clicks closed. Merlin looks properly chagrined on behalf of his friends, but his eyes narrow when Arthur smirks.

“So are we sorted then?”

Merlin might have been going to say more, but Arthur’s been unusually forgiving towards Merlin and now that he has him alone, decides some payback is due him.

“I don’t know Merlin. How do you figure everything’s sorted? Seeing as I’m stuck here with you because my PA’s doped me on the sly, your friends are wankers and you haven’t anything better to do on a Friday night.”

 

 **“I can tell already you think I’m the dragon,  
that would be so like me, but I’m not.  
I’m not the dragon.   
I’m not the princess either.”**

Only Morgana dares to give Arthur a dressing down like Merlin is giving him now. He has hopped topics, ranging from Valium side effects, how lucky Arthur is to not have seized, how his disrespect of the medical profession is going to get him killed and currently is on Arthur’s inability to behave human. An idea that Merlin certainly has warmed to, if his raised voice, rapid-fire insults and shaking hands are any indication.

The only silver lining in the situation is that Arthur’s followed the entire conversation, which means the Valium is finally wearing off. In fact, Merlin should consider it good evidence that Arthur did not have a seizure watching him pace like a lunatic for the past twenty minutes.

“Merlin. I know you enjoy hearing yourself talk, but I think you should let me leave now.”

That snaps Merlin out of it and he circles around to look down on Arthur, still meekly sitting in the dental chair where Merlin placed him earlier.

“No.”

“No?” Arthur says angrily. “Why not?”

“Because I have work to finish and since you couldn’t be arsed to find out what pills you were taking and I couldn’t get it done, you’ll just have to wait for me.”

He sits on the rolling stool and starts flipping through charts.

“Not my problem, mate.”

“Oh really?” Merlin doesn’t look up, just keeps reading and signing charts as he talks. “Actually it is, because Leon told me when you had to be out of here. And you have no one to drive you home now, because, see the time Arthur? Your driver has gone home for the night.”

“So? I’ll call a friend.”

“You will? That’s funny, because earlier when I was trying to get rid of you; you told me there was no one who could pick you up other than your driver. And he’s not allowed to sign for medical responsibility of you.”

That stumps Arthur and he folds his arms over his chest defensively and sulks. “Stalk much, Merlin?”

“Oh you have no idea, do you?” Merlin does look up at this, eyes blazing.

“Do you even know the trouble I had to go to for Arthur Pendragon to get his teeth cleaned and a filling?” Merlin asks, saying Arthur’s name as if it were something despicable.

“So you stayed late. What’s your problem?” Arthur is genuinely confused about what Merlin is on about.

“We closed shop at three, so you would be the only patient. Leon said you’d need our undivided attention. Paid extra for that. Couldn’t believe how much he was willing to drop so you could have your _privacy_.

“Gwaine and Will stayed for me. I wasn’t sure what I would get, but nothing in my lifetime prepared me for you. I have wealthier clients than you, but they’ve never behaved so much like the prima donna as you do.”

Merlin throws the charts on the counter, props his elbows on his knees, and raggedly threads his fingers through his hair, pulling on it like he’s about to tear it out.

“Will and Gwaine. They don’t always feel like they fit here and you made that abundantly clear to them today.” Merlin pauses, his eyes sad before he shakes his head at Arthur’s blank stare and asks, “Didn’t your mother at least teach you if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it all?”

Arthur’s convinced it’s the Valium that makes him answer honestly. Merlin has tore a strip off his hide tonight and he owes this man nothing, absolutely nothing and yet he cannot deny him answers when he looks so beaten.

“My mother died before I was born.”

Silence _can be_ deafening and awkward and if Arthur thought raving Merlin was god-awful, Merlin trying to back track is worse.

Merlin’s voice is filled with sorrow and pity. “I’m sorry. I’m lecturing you and I’m not even taking my own mother’s advice -- fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t very sensitive either.”

“Merlin, I can deal with other people talking about their mums.”

“Yeah?” Merlin answers, his stunned expression turning sheepish. “I’m doing a piss poor job of stalking you, aren’t I? I should’ve known that already.”

“You’re really horrible at this,” Arthur says, laughing as Merlin sputters about searching for what to say next. “And you call yourself a professional.”

“I am. People love me. They do,” Merlin blurts out in a panic. “It’s just you. You licked my hand and... Christ Arthur! Can I quit this conversation yet?”

Arthur's quick agreement has nothing to with the fact that they’re getting precariously close to earlier events and as much as he’d like to tease Merlin about how he’s certain the moaning Merlin did while he was licking his hand kinda says he liked it, Arthur would rather not be reminded of how into it he had been, because at the moment, he cannot peel his eyes away from Merlin, who constantly teethes his bottom lip and twiddles the biro between his index and middle finger. 

So when he licks his lips and next starts speaking, it’s no surprise that Arthur has to play catch up.

“What? You've seen me before?" Arthur asks. “I haven’t seen you, have I? Omigod Merlin, are you stalking me?” 

“No. Sort of? No! It was an accident.”

“Care to explain yourself, in English,” Arthur groans, not sure what to expect from Merlin and hoping it’s not about to get ‘I only went through your trash bins once’ weird.

“I saw you. I saw you once before today.” Merlin is abrupt and wired and apologetic, his leg bouncing like an India rubber ball. “I saw you at that AIDS Benefit with your dad.”

It all slots into place. Arthur understands now, his gut clenching. So that’s why Merlin had been so invested in him, why he was so upset by the Arthur he met today.

His father had made the news that night, his blatant disappointment of Arthur’s revelation recorded for the entire BBC One audience. Arthur had no idea the press was going to be there and if he had known, he probably wouldn’t have attended the event. His father capable of representing the firm all on his own.

Too bad the press had seen it as an opportunity to ambush the Pendragons. Uther’s outrage at his son’s sexual orientation overshadowing the rest of the good press that came of the night, the awareness it was meant to raise. Arthur had done his best damage control, going on camera and publicly denouncing his father’s hateful remarks and chastising the press for their part in debasing the event with aggressive paparazzi tactics.

“You were there that night then? He isn’t always such a…,” Arthur cannot bear to disrespect his father even out of his presence. He leaves it and sees Merlin understands.

“You were impressive and I always wondered if I could have behaved so elegantly. How do you put up with him?”

“I take it out on everyone else,” and Arthur’s chest burns, as if he’s just stabbed himself in the heart with this confession and he expects Merlin to be disgusted with him, but when he finally collects himself enough to meet Merlin’s eyes, it’s not what’s there. They’re assessing, open, and curious.

Arthur’s cheeks flame under the scrutiny and he kicks at Merlin’s knees sending him and the rolling stool backwards. They both laugh, a bit hysterical, before Merlin turns serious again.

“My father was a human rights activist, well-known in hippie circles. My mom says I look like him. I wouldn’t know though; he abandoned us before I was born. Sometimes she looks at me and I think the only thing she can see is the disappointment my father was and what rot my life is because of him.”

“What rot your life is?” Arthur wonders aloud. “Your name’s first on the list of dentists. Didn’t you start up this practice?”

“Yeah, yeah I did,” but Merlin doesn’t sound proud and Arthur is confused again. Somewhere his bourgeois heritage hasn’t prepared him for what could possibly be wrong in _making good_ as his father would say.

Merlin looks defeated though as if he’s the bane of his mother’s existence and Arthur wants to hug him, whisper _it’s okay_ in his ear like he did to reassure Arthur earlier, but all he can come up with is a generic platitude: “Merlin, your mum would have to be blind not to see how fantastic you are.”

“Don't you understand, Arthur? My father gets quoted a lot. He said, ‘Not everyone is born rich enough to afford the luxury of making the right decision all the time.’”

"Oh fuck, that's your dad?" Arthur says and winces at how callous it sounds. He knows exactly how Merlin feels, even if he hasn't ever been in this situation before. Well, at least not where he's the one giving sympathy for one's parentage.

Usually he's the one in need of it.

"Yeah, that's my dad."

Merlin takes a deep breathe; choking down a sob that escapes, immobilizing Arthur, who's scared now for Merlin and terrified, because he recognizes this defeat and Merlin looks bowed and beat up by life and he's too young to be so broken. Isn't he?

 _Aren't they?_

Apparently not, because there's more and Arthur doesn't want to hear it, but he can't leave, can't leave Merlin like this... can't leave him all alone with this all too familiar guilt. 

“Every obnoxious thing I've done in my life, I've justified because of it. I've let everything, but starting this practice, go to waste. Relationships, being active in the community, visiting my mum."Merlin's voice tapers off into a whisper, “Oh God, Arthur, my poor mum hasn't seen me in ages.”

Arthur should say something now, yet it's too sudden, at least for Arthur when Merlin stands, his laugh, deprecating but collected. “I’m a hypocrite and I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He grabs the charts and heads for the door, “You can go Arthur. Sorry. Sorry about everything. You should take a taxi home though. Want me to call you one?”

There’s something about Merlin. It’s been niggling and worming its way into Arthur’s heart as they’ve talked, since before they talked truthfully. And Arthur is being brutally honest with himself tonight, and Merlin too, and because he doesn’t want to go home alone and because Merlin gets him; they get each other —

He pleads, “Merlin, come home with me tonight.”

 

 **“And the part where I push you  
flush against the wall and every part of your body  
rubs against the bricks,  shut up   
I’m getting to it.”**

Part of Arthur, the insignificant little boy inside that his father manages to tap into every time they talk, thinks Merlin is going to say no.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything at all, simply walks out.

Arthur doesn’t know what to say or do, so he follows and freaks out that he’s fine with it. He’s fine with following Merlin as if it’s the most natural thing in the universe for him to do. A fucking Pendragon, a pillar of the community and all that shit and with only a little understanding and sympathy, he has been reduced to – Arthur fends off that line of thinking by focusing on the man walking ahead of him.

“Merlin?”

Merlin jerks, his entire body convulses forward and jolts back upright, as if he’s suddenly been magnetized to the floor.

“Merlin!” Arthur says a bit loud this time and Merlin snaps out of it and walks on, into a small office where he files the charts, pulls on his coat, stuffing his wallet into his pocket and finally speaks.

“I’ll drive.”

From Merlin's reaction out in the hallway, Arthur had assumed the negative won out. It's his turn to jerk in surprise. “Drive what? Do you have a car here?” Arthur asks, amazed at how steady his voice is given the spike of adrenaline Merlin’s possible yes shoots into him.

“No car. I do manage to be careful of the environment Arthur,” and Merlin is staring again, catching Arthur off guard and making his whole body flush.

“Stop that.”

“What?” Merlin says, but he’s smiling wider than he has all night. His eyes crinkling in merriment and reminding Arthur all over again, why taking him home is such a good idea.

And why before he thinks to ask, Arthur is in Merlin’s space, kissing him, sure and confident, claiming his mouth like he has a right to it. And Merlin kisses back, just as demanding and hot, his tongue licking up and into Arthur’s mouth.

Their kisses, too possessive for strangers, continue, dragging on, heady and hard until Arthur cannot breathe. He pulls reluctantly away only to nose Merlin’s neck.

“Merlin. Merlin,” he chants softly, peppering Merlin with quick, nipping kisses before twining his left hand in Merlin’s right and tugging him out of the office. “Let’s go. Can we go now?

“Drive me home, yeah?”

“What was it Will called you earlier?” Merlin says, laughing and pulling away from Arthur. Not going far though, only to lock his office and then he’s back again, taking Arthur’s hand while holding out the other. His hand’s trembling and Arthur laps at it, right in the middle of the open palm.

“No Arthur, that’s not the right answer,” Merlin explains giggling. “Keys. I need them for driving.”

Arthur comes in for more kisses though, nuzzling against Merlin as he pats Arthur down.

"Keys, darling. I need them if we're to leave," Merlin says on a huffed laugh.

"Oh!" Arthur sighs happily, "Keys for driving. You need mine, yeah? Don't have a car, do you, you Greenie?"

He wants to leave, but he cannot help pulling Merlin in for another fierce, drawn out kiss.

Merlin's heaved, put upon breath warms his cheek and his mutter, "I shouldn't be doing this. Oh God, they're going to take my license," registers hazily, but when Merlin tugs on Arthur’s tie, tugs on it again until Arthur grins stupidly up at him, he forgets all about worrying and starts fumbling around for his keys in earnest.

“No driving for you until tomorrow afternoon. Promise me, Arthur, okay?

“Yes doctor,” Arthur grumbles, not liking anyone telling him what to do. It irritates him enough to pull away from Merlin and focus on the keys, letting out a triumphant, “Ah-hah!” when he finds them.

“You’re still high, you know.”

“Don't think I am, mate and I know what I’m doing, _Mer_ lin, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Merlin’s head cocks to the right and he peeks at Arthur from the corner of his eyes, “You sure? You asked me back to your place. A dentist. A stranger.”

“Quit being such a killjoy.” Arthur’s indignant on Merlin’s behalf and he giggles a bit over the disparity. “Shouldn’t I be the one bringing up these complaints?”

“I don’t know, Arthur. I don’t want to take advantage.”

“C’mon Merlin, what do I have to do to convince you I’m fine?”

Merlin must have expected this answer because quicker than Arthur can say, “really?” he ticks off: “Jump in the air three times with your index finger on your nose, say the alphabet backwards and walk the entire straight of the hallway without wobbling.”

“You’re scary,” Arthur says in awe of Merlin’s demands, and laughs, head thrown back because he sees Merlin giving in to him as he shakily manages the jumping and aces the walking. 

Arthur starts on the alphabet and balks around L. “This is going to take forever Merlin. Can we please just count two out of three?” He leans into Merlin, blanketing him with his body and nudging Merlin's jawline with his nose and whines, "Please?"

Merlin giggles, pushing Athur off with a "you big baby," but he grabs Arthur's hand and swings it like they’re four and not yet in primary school. The silliness of it all is good though, because he’s pulling Arthur outside and towards the car.

 

 **“Let me do it right for once,  
for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes,  
you know the story, simply heaven.”**

Something is clearly off with Arthur.

He’s never laughed this much in his life, much less during the act of undressing – much less in the act of undressing in an effort to get laid. But here he is, falling over himself and Merlin and the two of them tangling and giggling before they’ve even got naked.

It takes a concentrated effort to unbutton Arthur’s dress shirt and unknot his tie when in the midst of a laughing fit. Merlin quiets as he rubs the tie up and down, avidly watching the silk material slick and slide through his thumb and forefinger before tugging it long ways off. When Merlin’s fingers trace where the tie has just been, scruffing Arthur’s neckline and cascading down his shoulder blades, Arthur goes weak-kneed and Merlin pushes him onto the bed.

Uncontrollable giggles start up again watching Merlin hop about, his scrubs and pants flying willy-nilly.

“Is that supposed to be sexy Merlin?” Arthur brays at Merlin’s full arse-over-head tumble, his pants tripping him up when they catch on his bony ankles.

“Let’s have you then,” Merlin heckles, now safely ensconced against pillows, legs splayed wide, both elbows crooked, hands behind his head.

“You’re going to regret this,” Arthur teases, swiveling his hips and slowly unzipping his fly.

“Don’t think so,” Merlin replies cheekily, stroking his cock lazily and not taking his eyes off Arthur, laughing when Arthur's eyes bulge at the sight.

The heat of Merlin’s gaze is too much, too enticing and Arthur is suddenly too desperate to strip for Merlin’s amusement. He pushes his trousers and pants down in one clean swoop. Gaze predatory, he lowers himself on the bed and crawls to Merlin, who, damn him, waggles his eyebrows suggestively, not at all bothered by Arthur’s haste.

“You’re so weird.”

“I’m weird? You didn't hop to get your trousers off. That’s just freaky, Arthur.”

“Merlin.”

“What?”

“Shh.”

And Arthur lets the silence settle over them and does take the time to fully appreciate all the pale skin a naked Merlin provides, paying special care to place butterfly kisses on the purpling bruises circling Merlin’s wrist.

He smiles against Merlin’s palm and kisses it and considers his finger fantasy from earlier, except Merlin’s hands fist in his hair, yanking Arthur in for a burning kiss. The kind where tongues and plump lips converge to explore and alternate soft, hard and back to soft again with a few pecks and bites in between. Where kisses heighten and intensify and last such an amazingly long time that when they rock together, their bodies canting into each other, the desire ignites quick.

Merlin’s mouth is not something to take for granted. Arthur aches for it and wonders how to best take advantage of it when Merlin palms his neck, fingers gripping it hard. His head gets tilted backwards and his neck fully exposed. Merlin sinks his teeth into the taut tendon standing out, digging his fingers into Arthur’s skin when he cries out and tries to pull away. The pain pleasure of Merlin’s wet lips, quickly followed by the sharp pinch of teeth and a hard suck for easing the sting, has Arthur arching off the bed, toes curling into the duvet.

He grabs for Merlin, his arms coming up and encircling Merlin’s small but wiry torso. He tips the control and flips Merlin beneath him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving you something to remember me by. Fair’s fair, Arthur.”

Merlin squirms and tries to gain some leverage on Arthur, but he can’t. He’s too slight compared to Arthur. Besides Arthur has reached near-frenzied need with the constant skin-to-skin contact. He slides his hands to Merlin’s backside, grabs, squeezes and pulls him closer. Pulls them into a rocking motion that has Merlin open-mouthed and clutching Arthur around the neck.

And Arthur is really losing it, because he’s wishing there was no reason for a barrier between his cock and Merlin’s lips, that he could beg Merlin to fuck him without feeling risqué and too forward and that he never wants to have sex again unless it involves laughing fits and sexy teasing and all these things he will associate with Merlin and he’s not sure if that means he can ever manage sex again with anyone but Merlin.

The thought of this being a one-night deal twists around Arthur’s heart and squeezes and hurts more than he’s ever thought caring for someone can, and so he takes, tries to numb some of the pain by demanding what he wants.

“Do you remember my mouth, Merlin? Where I had it today?”

“Yes.” Merlin shakily replies, too boneless to untuck himself from under Arthur’s chin. He skates lusciously slender fingers over Arthur’s lips, and Arthur captures the tip of Merlin’s middle finger between his teeth, laving it up and down before he sucks the obscenely long digit down to the knuckle, slightly scraping his teeth along the underside of it, working it with nothing but the suction of his lips and gentle nudging of his tongue. Arthur’s hips thrust in tandem with those movements and he feels Merlin fall open, spread wide, the bobbing of his adam’s apple unable to silence the keening wail now freely coming from his throat.

Arthur quickly finds this position works for both of them, but cannot keep up with it. He curses the Valium when he loses his breath and his momentum, shuddering to a painful, blue balling halt. Shit, this is embarrassing!

They're both agitated and tense. Merlin's quiet, "alright?" not making things better. The silence suffocating again, until Merlin stares at his hand in wonderment, waggling his middle finger to get circulation back in it. “Fuck! What’re you doing to me, Arthur?”

“Not enough if you can formulate whole sentences,” Arthur laughingly complains, slightly miffed that Merlin’s not more affected or upset by the lack of action going on, but his ego inflating all the same.

“C’mon darling, that’s no way to be,” Merlin says, pouncing, catching Arthur unawares and wrestling control back. “You could have jacked me off to the rhythm of your mouth if you weren’t so tired.”

It shouldn’t, but it bothers Arthur that Merlin’s noticed he’s knackered and possibly too far gone to keep up the pace, a pace that hasn’t been all that fast compared to his usual style. He wants to protest when Merlin curls into him, legs circling his waist, Merlin’s hands mapping out his shoulders, roaming over his chest, scraping lightly along his belly and wrapping confidently around his cock. Merlin’s fist works Arthur perfectly and too soon he’s shouting out in release.

He reciprocates, surprised-pleased when Merlin shamelessly begs the entire time, egging Arthur on as if he weren’t getting a quick handjob but being fucked properly into oblivion.

However, it feels good to close his eyes and let Merlin clean him up with a warm flannel. He struggles to stay awake, but does wrench himself upright when he hears Merlin pulling his pants and scrubs on.

“Merlin, don’t leave. Stay the night at least. I can make you breakfast.”

“Shh. Arthur you need sleep,” but Arthur won't lay down until Merlin comes close, his fingers lightly carding through Arthur’s hair.

“Stay and we’ll have a proper lie-in,” he begs groggily.

Arthur means it too. If Merlin stays, then maybe in the morning, when Arthur is more himself, he can convince the man they should give it a go, because Arthur thinks even without the Valium he could probably fall in love with Merlin if he’d let him.

However, Arthur wakes up around two in the morning, knowing right away his bed is empty and that Merlin hasn’t slept in it at all.

There’s a note, heartbreakingly short and simple: _This isn’t me. Sorry._

 

 **“You see, I take the parts that I remember  
and stitch them back together  to make a creature that will do what I say   
or love me back.”**

Gwen pulls Arthur into the flat, whispering excitedly and hopping madly around him. “He’s going to propose, isn’t he? We’re all dressed to the nines and it would be the _perfect_ time for it.” Her harried glances down the hall amusing Arthur so much he bursts into his overly loud, head thrown back laughter and she shushes him with frantic windmilling arms. “Now you’ve done it. You never laugh like that anymore.”

“Oh don’t think you can shift blame on me, missy!” Arthur laughs again, and pushes Gwen towards the bedroom she shares with Lance. “Better go check and see if the diamond’s still where you found it. Loverboy might need an extra hand getting dressed tonight too; he has public speaking jitters.”

“I don’t want to act too suspicious. He’ll know I know,” she says, shooing Arthur into a chair.

“Gwen Thomas, you know you want to go back there and – ”

“If you value your life Arthur Pendragon, you’ll not say another word about it,” Gwen threatens, straining her neck from her spot on the couch to see if Lance is listening.

Arthur laughs again. He can’t help it and he’d like to know which is making Gwen more anxious. Knowing Lance is about to propose or Lance finding out she knows he’s about to propose.

He leans forward and whispers to her, “So which is it? The proposal or Lance that has you more worked up.”

“Oh Arthur, actually it’s the ring,” and she’s up again and pacing. “It’s bloody marvelous and huge, but how could he afford it?”

Arthur pulls Gwen onto the couch, holding her down and snug against him, because if he doesn’t she’ll pop up like a jack-in-the-box and he’ll be chasing her around the living room to get her calm. “You have to trust Lance in these sorts of things too, you know. He’s responsible so why are you upset about a diamond he clearly wants you to have?”

“I hate money.”

“No, you don’t. You’re scared of it, because my father’s an ogre and put you off the wealthy.” 

He thinks she might be hyperventilating and watches her carefully as she leans over, a little worried for her but not overly much because this is Gwen and she frets about everything and everyone, making it impossible for anyone not to love her.

“You’re not helping me,” Gwen singsongs, head between her legs so she can breathe.

She rights herself so swiftly, she nearly faints and Arthur has to push her upright. “I have to convince loads of those same stuffed shirts to part with their monies soon, and bringing up your father isn't helping," but then she rounds on him quick, pinching his cheeks motherly, “Look at you, you darling boy, talking bad about daddy without blushing. When did you get all grown-up on me?”

Sometimes with Gwen, Arthur doesn't know how to keep up. Her change of topics not necessarily in need of a response and he guesses when she goes quiet on him that that applies to right now. He hopes they’ve weathered the worse of her freak out.

Her shoulders sag though and she looks up at him. “Really, tell me I shouldn’t worry that he spent a small fortune on that diamond.”

“Gwen, think of it from Lance’s perspective. You’re the most precious thing he’s ever had the good fortune to claim. If you say anything about the expense of that diamond you will hurt his feelings, maybe even forever.”

“Oh God, you’re right!” and Gwen’s hands flutter wildly while Arthur gets her upright, watching her normalize back into her usual frenetic self and thinking if he doesn’t want to be accidentally mauled by Gwen’s hands taking flight, he’d best move.

Arthur quickly switches back to the chair, out of range and where he can sit by himself.

“Why’d you leave me? And here I thought you were making so much progress.” Gwen hones her gaze in on Arthur. “Are you dating someone?”

“Uh, no. Remember you’ve gone and pulled the only good looking bloke left.”

“Don’t start that with me again. I had every right to think you were talking about Lance! Who starts off their list of preferable partner traits with soft dark hair that curls seductively behind his ears and at his nape?” Gwen snorts.

“Have you taken up writing Mills & Boon romances yet?”

Such a throw away taunt, but Arthur flinches. The flashback is quick, surprisingly painful and he cannot squash it before Gwen notices.

“You’re thinking about him again?” she asks softly.

“Why do you insist there’s a ‘him’ Gwen?” 

“Because no person, male or female, when asked what their type is, has the sort of details you do. I’m certain you’re describing someone you want and for some reason cannot have. You’re a catch Arthur. There’s got to be something you’re not telling me.” 

Like usual, the topic distresses Gwen. She takes her coddling of Arthur seriously, and he cannot make her understand he doesn’t want her prying into this area of his life.

That’s what he gets though for coming over here one night drunk and missing Merlin more than usual. She had plied him with more alcohol, made him watch _Love Actually_ three times in a row and when he was fully sloshed sprung a fashion magazine survey on him. It had been about types and Arthur might have got belligerent because Merlin isn’t a type, he’s a person who Arthur happens to want. The survey might have ticked him off a bit too, trying to act all modern and chic with ‘it’s all good’ and no one has just one type attitude.

Arthur has to believe that some people were meant for each other or if he doesn’t then he has to let go of all his romantic ideals. He’ll have to let go of the belief he and Merlin are meant to be.

So far he only has one couple, Gwen and Lance, to base his theories on. That true love can happen at first sight, and like attract like. And Arthur cannot help but be jealous of them. They have exactly the kind of relationship he wants.

“Arthur. Earth to Arthur.”

“I can hear you plain as day Gwen.”

“Can you? Tell me what I just said.”

“Arthur. Earth to Arthur.”

“Ha. Bloody. Ha! Before that.”

“Doesn’t count, Gwennie. Too much conversation has happened now. Plausible deniability.”

“Lance needs me to help him pick out a tie.”

Arthur pretends to gag himself with his finger. “So you need me to wait downstairs?”

“Gutter mind! Get yourself together man. We’re going to a benefit dinner for _Operation Smile_ , not the playboy mansion!” But Gwen is smiling fondly at him. “Do me a favor, yeah?

“The main speaker is good friends with Lance and he'll be here in a few. I haven’t ever met him, but Lance says he’s the nicest bloke ever. Quit a rich practice to work with Lance overseas.”

Gwen furrows her brow as if she doesn’t believe it and frankly Arthur doesn’t either. Lance is pretty unique insomuch that his nice guy reputation is not an act ever. The man’s a saint.

“So now you and Lance are fobbing your guests on me?” Arthur asks, knowing already he'll do it when Lance comes down the hall, begging expression for Arthur and grabs Gwen from behind, dragging her backwards.

“Just one. He’s gay," Lance supplies as Gwen pretends to struggle out of his hold.

“Maybe he’ll be cute and you’ll enjoy chatting him up. He’s just come back from Africa.” Gwen throws these tidbits out over her shoulder as Lance pulls her into their bedroom and shuts the door.

This cannot end well, because soon Arthur fears he’s about to be traumatized, either by squealing over a diamond or ‘sex before public speaking really relaxes Lance’. Gwen's confession, not something he knows firsthand.

Thankfully, the first knock comes just before he stuffs his head into the sofa cushions. He'd rather not go to a public benefit with mussed hair and clothing cackling from static electricity.

A man with perfect timing? What are the odds?

Arthur opens the door and blinks. Blinks again.

He shuts the door in Merlin’s face.

 

 **“Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time  
and we were all  forgiven,   
even though we didn’t deserve it.”**

“Shit!”

He opens the door again and Merlin is still standing there, hands in his pockets, calm and collected as can be.

“Arthur?”

“Hi. Sorry about that. Uhm. Gwen’s a friend of mine and she’s ah, a bit preoccupied with Lance right now. If you like we can go stand on the porch until they’re ready.”

Merlin nods, but Arthur sees him pull a face when Arthur turns to grab his coat.

“You don’t have to, you know. I can let you in and leave, if it’s too awkward.”

“Arthur, it’s fine. Let’s go. We’re adults and consenting ones at that; you’re still able to talk to me yeah?”

They fall in step together, easily, and Arthur cannot help but notice how they’re already gravitating to each other, walking closer than necessary or even as friends would.

“Yeah. So. I called,” Arthur says, accompanying it with a loose, blasé shrug. “Then. Afterwards I mean.”

“You did?” Merlin stops short, grabbing Arthur’s arm to get his attention.

“What? You didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t.” Merlin shakes his head and his hand stays on Arthur’s sleeve, actually picking nervously at it. Arthur elbows him, not hard, but friendly enough to kick-start Merlin back into talking. “It’s been over a year Arthur; do you remember why you called?”

“You really don’t know why?” Arthur asks, anger finally seeping through into his tone.

Merlin focuses on him with worry, “Arthur, I slept with you knowing you were high and I shouldn’t have. You have no idea how scared I was after that night.

“I went on Sabbatical the next day and then never went back. It and I... as you know already, the practice was never a good fit for me.”

Merlin scrubs his face with his hands exactly as he did the first night they met, and Arthur cannot stop himself from reaching for him, tucking Merlin against him, inside his coat, hugging him around the waist.

He doesn’t even consider that Merlin might refuse, and Merlin doesn’t and sinks gratefully into him, pliant, warm and snug. His arms sliding up Arthur’s back, wide palms splaying across his shoulder blades before curling around his shoulders and anchoring Merlin to Arthur, nearly head to toe now.

They lean into each other, cheek-to-cheek and physically melt into each other.

“I didn’t want to leave you, but it wasn’t right Arthur,” Merlin says, his face smooshed against Arthur’s neck. “And I couldn’t figure out how I had got so lucky. It had to be the Valium.”

Arthur pushes Merlin away at that, smacking Merlin’s backside when he grumbles at the loss of heat, but he wants Merlin’s undivided attention for what he’s about to say. “Merlin look at me.”

When Merlin finally lifts his head, his eyes are a bit glassy and he’s sputtering about being sorry and horrible timing and baggage that he wouldn’t wish on anyone so Arthur grips his shoulders and physically holds him still, all the while thinking Merlin and Gwen are going to be the best of friends what with having nearly identical spazztastic, but sweet personalities. And Merlin still hops side-to-side, foot-to-foot and it makes Arthur laugh aloud, and oh how he has missed laughing with Merlin, even though Merlin is looking a bit outraged now, thinking that Arthur’s laughing at him.

Arthur props his forehead against Merlin’s, his eyes crossing when Merlin’s blue eyes don’t stray at all from his. “Staring match, Merlin?”

“Maybe” says Merlin, a bit petulant but a bit happy too.

“Do I get to pinch you if you blink?”

“Don’t be juvenile, Arthur. I’m proving a point.”

“Which is?”

“You told me to look at you and you’ve done nothing but laugh at me. Are you mental?”

And it’s the perfect opening for Arthur to confess, “You idiot. I was half out of my mind, stupidly in love with you that night. Not sure why. Probably has a lot to do with wanting to become better acquainted with your fingers.”

Arthur catches Merlin’s middle finger between his teeth and Merlin’s huffy protest turns to a small whimper when Arthur wraps his lips around it, swirling his tongue round and round it as he swallows it down and as he pulls off.

“Maybe even has something to do with how you inspire me to be better, but who cares about that.”

Merlin’s knees buckle but Arthur holds him firm. Doesn’t let him collapse, except against him and Merlin whines, talking about Arthur not playing fair.

Arthur’s old-fashioned though and he thinks ‘All’s fair in love and war’ apt for this situation.

He also knows stories are supposed to have middles and ends and of course beginnings, but Arthur doesn’t want his and Merlin’s muddled middle. This part of their story is private, private even to themselves and not something he wants. Sure, he’s gearing up for hearing how Merlin’s come back to him and knows it’s going to be a tale worth hearing, memories worth sharing, but they’re Merlin’s to keep, not something part of the Arthur and Merlin memories they will make.

While Arthur’s switching it up some, he decides he and Merlin don’t do happily ever after either. What complete bollocks is that saying and so utterly inadequate for the beginning… the beginnings he and Merlin have yet to share. And so there’s nothing for it… their story isn’t going to have an ending either.

Up above them, Lance and Gwen fiddle with the door, and will interrupt them soon.

Arthur wishes Merlin knew by now how special he is, how precious he is to Arthur in ways no one else is. But words, Arthur has learned, count for more than people will admit and right now he needs to hear Merlin admit it this time.

“Tonight, come home with me and stay,” he asks.

Merlin’s ears redden and Arthur remembers him like this from last time. Merlin also looks anxious and unsettled and not sure of himself at all.

Here,” Arthur says, catching Merlin’s hand in his own, clutching their entwined fists to his chest and drawing Merlin so close that together they can feel each other’s heartbeats, speeding up with the contact.

Arthur hopes Merlin can hear how each beat of his heart begs Merlin to say _yes, yes, yes_.

He is so caught up in listening to their heartbeats, he nearly misses Merlin's quietly fervent, “ _yes, yes, oh god, Arthur yes_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for glomp_fest 2011


End file.
